


The Pretty Fluttering Thing

by dreamkist



Series: To the End [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 11:47:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14111679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamkist/pseuds/dreamkist
Summary: Steve’s eyes were drawn to a coat draped over a low branch.  The coat was bright white with a white feather collar.  It was pristine.  He didn’t know how that shade of pure white could exist.  Steve imagined the man wearing it–his golden skin and dark hair would be a contrast to the white feathers–he would be beautiful in it.





	The Pretty Fluttering Thing

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://hackedmotionsensors.tumblr.com/post/172512107509/ive-been-pretty-sick-since-wondercon-so-it-took)  
>  Lovely art by [hackedmotionsensors](http://hackedmotionsensors.tumblr.com).

As Steve trekked through the woods, hunting, the wind shook the leaves of the trees above him. A storm had torn through the night before, and the rain had left the ground soft beneath his feet. He reached a hidden trail that led to a pond where animals would drink water. As he neared the pond, Steve could hear the light sounds of splashing. He crouched and moved closer to see what was at the pond.

Steve gently parted the reeds and saw it was a man in the water. His pant legs were rolled up, and his dark hair and tan skin were shining wet in the sun. There was something almost regal about him as he smoothed his hair back and lifted his face to the sun.

Steve’s eyes were drawn to a coat draped over a low branch. The coat was bright white with a white feather collar. It was pristine. He didn’t know how that shade of pure white could exist. Steve imagined the man wearing it–his golden skin and dark hair would be a contrast to the white feathers–he would be beautiful in it.

Steve shifted to move a little closer and stepped on a twig. The sound drew the man’s attention to the reeds where Steve was hiding. He saw the man glance at his belongings. He looked vulnerable. Steve felt his own heart race as he rose from behind the reeds to assure the man he meant no harm.

“I didn’t mean to startle to you. I was just,” Steve stopped, he couldn’t say he was spying on the man. Instead, he said, “I saw your coat. I thought it was a bird.”

The man stepped out of the water and lightly moved nearer to the tree. He looked like he wanted to grab the coat and run, but he restrained himself. “I get that a lot,” his tone was weary, and he carefully watched Steve.

Steve moved a bit closer, for some reason he was drawn to the man who quickly stepped into his boots without taking his eyes off of Steve. He was clearly worried about his possessions and keeping Steve away from them, so Steve remained where he was and asked, “Where are you going?” It was then that Steve realized there was no horse tied nearby. The other man must have been traveling on foot.

“I was on my way home.” The man eased his shirt on and added, “I got turned around in the storm.”

“You were out here in the storm last night?” Steve asked, concerned for the stranger. “My home isn’t that far from here. I would have invited you in.”

“I try to avoid civilization,” the word was said with an arched eyebrow, “When I can.” He rolled his pants down. “You would be surprised by the things civilized people will do,” he muttered.

Steve didn’t like the feeling that statement left in his stomach. It was followed by a sense of protectiveness for the other man.

He must have noticed the look on Steve’s face because he joked, “Sometimes I do a little dance. Gets me out of all kinds of trouble.” The man finally lifted the coat and slid it on.

The white did contrast beautifully with his skin and hair, Steve thought as he watched it being adjusted, and it fit him perfectly. The collar drew attention to his face and chest, and it hugged his muscled shoulders and arms. He wondered what sort of dance this man could do.

“I have to go home,” the man’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

Steve dragged his own eyes up to meet the other’s smiling eyes, and he blushed at being caught staring. But he quickly forgot his embarrassment when he realized what had been said. He didn’t want to part with this man he had just met. He felt an inexplicable sadness that he would be leaving. He didn’t even know his name, so he asked.

“Tony,” was the response.

“Tony,” he murmured. “I’m Steve.”

Tony began to walk away, but he turned to say, “You know, you could try to find me, Steve. I might even show you my dance.” He gave Steve a grin and started to leave again.

“Where can I find you?” Steve called after him.

“The mountains of gold and silver, where the birds sing in the cinnamon trees,” he answered with a smile–a smile that Steve knew he would search the world to see again.

The man disappeared into the trees, and Steve began to leave when he spotted a white feather on the ground. He gently lifted it and brushed a finger along its edge.

**Author's Note:**

> [The Robe of Feathers](https://www.worldoftales.com/Asian_folktales/Japanese_folktale_46.html) (Swan Maiden)


End file.
